knives. // slow updates 💫

.•° two: square one °•.

Michael followed his mother past the kitchen and up the stairs. He recalled this tour very well. It had been years since he set foot in this apartment.

"And this is your old room." Katherine sighed, leaning onto the door post.

It was a regular sized bedroom, with a twin bed in the middle, some records stacked on top of the dresser in the corner, a giant stereo, and a full-length mirror by the closet. The window was closed, next to the headboard of the bed. Michael walked in, careful not to stomp on the weak floor with his heavy feet, and sat down on the bed.

He gazed at the wallpaper's outer space theme. A bright white moon painted on the ceiling, surrounded by flecks of light blue. He chuckled at the thought.

I always wanted to be an astronaut. Shifting through time and space.

Katherine scanned the room with her eyes. "You did. That's all you ever talked about. 'Momma, I'm gonna grow up and be the coolest astronaut ever! You'll see me on the television, in color, and I'll wave at you through the window of the rocket ship'!"

He couldn't believe he'd slipped again. He had a bad habit of talking his most secret thoughts out loud, and talking in his sleep.

"Yeah, those were the good old days." Michael giggled and sighed. He looked down at his black gloves, covering his wide hands.

"Michael...what's the matter? You don't like the colors anymore? We could change it to brown, if you want."

He shook his head and unzipped his suitcase, displaying his regular clothes on the bed. "No, Ma. It's fine. I'm just tired, that's all."

She looked at her son, now, a man. It's almost as if she had welcomed a stranger into her dwelling. Yes, he was her flesh and blood, however, the son she knew was gone. A timid, sensitive creature had replaced him.

"Well, I'll head on to bed. Since you're up, you can get yourself a midnight snack. I will cook breakfast in a few hours. Good night, baby." Katherine walked over with her noticeable limp, and bent down to kiss her favorite son on the top of his head. He closed his eyes and held her hand.

"I love you, Ma," he said, in almost a whisper.

She smiled and moved his curls out of his boyish face. "I love you, more."

∆

Michael was soon left alone, with his thoughts. He closed the door, removed his coat, and slipped his white shirt off.

He crawled under the covers and opened the window, slightly. The cool breeze caressed his face. He laid facing the ceiling, studying the design. His arms flexed, as he got comfortable, resting his head in his hands.

He dreamt of what life would be like, now.